[Ah. Common ground. The look on his face for all of a few seconds betrays that he expected more arguing, honestly, before his jaw sets with the grim recollection of his wings growing in.]

And you're forced to keep them, which is ridiculous. [and not something he's proud to revisit in detail, but he kept the scissors anyway, palmed up a sleeve while older Haibane scolded him for wandering away unsupervised. The little things.

He waves a hand at Corbin instead, loftily; see his point now? yeah??]

So I've decided if I have to endure someone around here, I'd rather he not stare like I've got three fucking heads growing out of my back. Is that enough for you?